Once Tempted (6 page)

He paused in the midst of grooming to take a sip of black coffee. He’d placed the thick ceramic mug next to one of the corral’s posts, out of harm’s way from hooves or booted feet. The coffee was sorely needed. He’d been up for hours, roused by Pete Williams, the ranch’s foreman, who’d called to tell him that they had a situation down at the barn. Two of their ewes were having trouble lambing. One was carrying twins, who appeared to be trying to come into the world neck and neck. Definitely not a good situation.

Pete had hands a surgeon would envy. Nimble and delicate. Unfortunately, he had only two of them, so Ward had rolled out of bed to lend his own pair to the other ewe in distress.

The second ewe’s problem was far more straightforward
than the first’s. Her lamb had been a breech presentation. As malpresentations went, rear legs exiting the uterus first weren’t the trickiest, but Pete had made the right call: The ewe couldn’t have birthed it on her own. The lamb was big—Ward could tell just by the size of its protruding hoof—and the ewe was exhausted. Luckily the ewe had been brought inside. The barn was warm and the straw was clean and dry.

After washing with an antiseptic and applying a lubricant, he’d dropped to his knees by the ewe’s posterior and carefully inserted his fingers into the ewe and gently begun drawing the lamb forward. The ewe appeared quite relieved at the help she was receiving and renewed her own efforts. A couple of muffled, tired bleats and heaving strains later, she delivered a mucus-covered bruiser of a lamb onto the straw. He had wiped the lamb down with a towel and cleaned himself off as well, then waited to make sure the mother would be able to handle the rest.

Once she’d expelled the afterbirth, the ewe clambered to her hooves to nuzzle and lick her newborn. Ward had carried over a bucket to offer her water in case she was thirsty, but it seemed birthing had made her hungry more than anything else. She’d alternated between munching on wisps of hay and casually nudging her lamb.

The newborn hadn’t seemed the worse for wear for entering the world ass-backward. Within a half hour he had gained enough strength to lurch to a stand. Encouraged by a sniff and a push from his mother, he had tottered over to her distended udder. After poking about and a few fumbled attempts to latch on to a teat, the lamb got the hang of it and began to nurse. At the other end, its woolly tail had begun to wiggle and wag, a sight that never failed to bring a smile to Ward’s lips and a chuckle from Pete.

“So, three new healthy lambs and it’s not even five
A.M.
,” Pete had remarked.

“Yeah, all things considered, not a bad way to start the day,” Ward said.

Since he was already down at the barns, Ward had decided he might as well stick around and help Carlos, Frank, and Holly, three of their ranch hands, water and feed the horses and get a jump on readying the ones needed for the trail ride.

Santiago was the last of Ward’s lot. Like the rest of the horses, he was still sporting a winter coat, so even after Ward had gone over him with a bristle brush he remained somewhat unkempt and shaggy, what Reid called the Jerry Garcia look. By the end of March, when the temperatures had climbed, grooming would involve clouds of black, gray, chestnut, white, and palomino hair floating to the ground, each session revealing more of the horses’ solid musculature.

Ward dropped the brush back into the carryall. Intuiting the grooming session was over, Santiago gave a full-body shake and then returned to his breakfast, feasting with equine delicacy.

A tabby, one of his sister’s rescues, ambled past. His previous owner had allowed a scratch to his eye go untreated. The wound had festered until the whole area was infected and oozing. The owner had solved the problem by sticking the cat in a crate and leaving it in the middle of the private gravel road that led to the ranch, Quinn’s reputation for rescuing animals known all through Acacia and beyond. She’d taken in the cat and footed the vet bill to have the eye, which by that point was beyond saving, enucleated.

Pirate had repaid Quinn’s loving care by becoming one of their best mousers. This morning was no exception. The cat paused in his path and turned his head
casually toward Ward, offering a clear view of the gray bulge in his maw.

“Must be off to give Quinn her Valentine’s Day present,” Frank said.

“Yet another clueless male.” Holly’s tone was as dry as kindling.

“What? I thought you said you wanted that set of saucepans,” Frank said.

Ward remained silent, unwilling to wade into the treacherous waters. Holly and Frank seemed happily married, but Frank was at times a shade too literal, which worked fine when it came to dealing with cattle and sheep but also explained why he might consider cooking pans a viable Valentine’s present for his wife of ten years. Ward would have to remember to find a moment to suggest Frank drive into Acacia after work and buy something a little less utilitarian for Holly. A necklace from Dazzled, the jewelry store, or a gift certificate from A Brand New Day might do the trick.

Christ, escaping this love business wasn’t easy. He’d even found himself wondering what a certain dark-eyed beauty with great taste in clothes and lousy car sense might like. Luckily he’d caught himself before doing anything foolish, like buying her a bouquet of flowers. He somehow knew that if she smiled at him—a real smile—he’d be in trouble.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t get a kick out of her New York cheek.

He picked up the carryall and his mug. “I’ve got to go hit the shower. I’ll be back down after the meeting, guys.” He ducked through the bars of the corral.

“Jim should be here soon, so we’ll tack the horses for you and Quinn,” Holly said.

Ward smiled. “Thanks. Hopefully the meeting will be over in time for us to lend a hand. You guys checking the fence later?” Maintaining the miles of fence that enclosed
the ranch was a vitally important job, involving frequent inspections.

“Me and Mitchell are riding the line. Pete’s staying here to keep an eye on the sorrel maiden mare. Her udder was real warm and full and she’s been acting restless. Holly’s on lamb duty,” Frank told him.

“Let’s hope any other lambs born today know which way to come out of their mommas,” Ward said.

“I’ll second that,” Holly replied.

After a quick shower and shave, Ward changed into a clean pair of jeans and a shirt, grabbed his barn jacket, and left his house to walk up to the main lodge. It was only a quarter of a mile, and the morning air was fresh and invigorating. In the distance the mountains were still robed in a violet gray mist, but over to the east, the rising sun shot threads of gold into the weave. If the sun managed to burn off the mist, the blackish green of the fir-covered slopes would be revealed.

He loved both views equally.

His booted steps rang on the gravel road and his breath came out in short puffs. He hadn’t eaten breakfast and so was looking forward to the staff meeting. This morning his family and the available staff were serving as taste testers for Roo Rodgers’s late spring menu. And though he was resisting the mass gooey excess of emotion that accompanied Valentine’s Day, he had to admit he was looking forward to seeing one woman in particular. He wondered what he could do to get Tess’s back up this morning. He’d developed a real talent for it. A man shouldn’t waste his talents.

In the pocket of his jacket his cellphone buzzed. Pulling it out, he pressed the talk button. “Ward here,” he answered, and lengthened his stride. The main lodge had come into view.

“Ward, can you believe it? Carrie said ‘Yes’!”

Romantic cynic though he might be, Ward wasn’t so jaded he’d begrudge his best friend’s happiness. The joy in Brian’s voice was so outsized it could have reached Ward without the aid of all the cell towers or satellites positioned between California and Massachusetts.

His own face split into a grin. “So you finally mustered the courage to ask her. Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, well, now that she’s finished writing the paper she’s giving at Harvard next week and has stopped looking like a zombie—Ow!” Brian’s grunt of pain was mixed with laughter. “My fiancée’s finding me objectionable already. Listen, Carrie wants to get on the line, too, so that we can ask you something. Make sure you congratulate her at having landed such a prize among men.”

Ward shook his head in amusement as Brian’s second grunt was followed by the unmistakable sound of lips meeting and clinging moistly, separating, then joining again. Clearing his throat loudly, he said, “Ahem, kids, don’t forget you’re not alone. I can hear you.”

“Sorry.” Brian’s voice held a telling huskiness. “Can’t help it. She’s so cute. And she’s going to marry me—hold on for one more sec.”

Rolling his eyes, Ward pulled open the door to the main lodge’s lobby. All was quiet. The breakfast for the guests wasn’t scheduled to begin for another forty-five minutes. He waved to Estelle, who was on duty at the front desk and also on the phone—likely talking to someone back east as well, or perhaps booking a reservation from an interested party in Europe—and opened a door to Estelle’s left that led to the back offices. The carpeted hall absorbed his footsteps.

The second round of smooching ended, and then Carrie’s breathless voice sounded in his ear as he settled into the chair behind his desk. “Hi, Ward!”

“Congratulations, beautiful. Mom’s going to be over the moon when she hears your and Brian’s news. You know how she is. Oh, and do me a favor and scoot away from that man before he gets any happier.”

“Hey!” Brian interjected, laughing. “I thought you were my friend! Maybe I shouldn’t ask you to be my best man at the wedding.”

Ward went still. Then he swallowed. “Brian, thank you—thank you for this honor.”

“Come on, as if there were ever any question whom I’d want by my side on the most important day of my life. You’re not just my best and oldest friend. If it weren’t for you, it’s doubtful I’d even be around to kiss Carrie, let alone marry her.”

A familiar wave of self-consciousness washed over Ward. He wished Brian would stop thinking of him as his personal savior. All that had happened more than two decades ago and the events had escalated so quickly—the gang of hoods forming a menacing circle around Brian, Ward’s decision to run over and help the new kid at school—what remained was pretty much a blur of heart-pounding, fear-blurred images.

While he might shake off the mantle of hero, one thing he would never reject was the bond of friendship forged between Brian and him that long-ago afternoon.

Determined to steer the conversation away from any further mention of his supposed heroism, he said, “Tell me more, guys. Have you set a date? I need to know when to line up the dancing girls for the bachelor party.”

“You can think again about that idea,” Carrie said as Brian exclaimed simultaneously, “Dancing girls, sweet! You’re right, Ward, I should have popped the question long ago.”

Ward grinned. “I foresee a lifetime of marital bliss, kids. It’s all right, Carrie. I’m sure I can line up some old,
wrinkled dancers who dress in purple kaftans for Brian’s bachelor party.”

“Thank you. That would be most acceptable.” Carrie’s voice was appropriately prim, but then she ruined it by giggling.

“I serve to please. So when and where’s the wedding of the year to take place?”

In the quiet of Ward’s office, Brian’s voice was as clear as if he were three feet rather than three thousand miles away. “Well, bud, that’s why we wanted to call you before anyone else. We don’t want a huge wedding—”

“Just a beautiful one in a place we both love,” Carrie chimed in. “Obviously the first place that came to mind was Silver Creek. We were wondering whether we might be able to have the wedding at the ranch.”

“Sure. Mom and Dad will be thrilled. You know they consider Brian a third son. When do you want to tie the knot?”

“We were thinking of the first weekend in June. Carrie’s teaching a summer school course, but it doesn’t start until the week after.”

Damn, early June? Memorial Day marked the beginning of the guest ranch’s high season, when the gardens were bright with color, and the weather was perfect for all sorts of activities—hiking, biking, riding, fishing, swimming, and kayaking, not to mention the touring of vineyards near and far. Brian had worked a number of summers at the ranch alongside Ward and Reid, with Quinn tagging along after them. He knew how crazy the summer season got.

The excitement of Carrie’s accepting his proposal must have caused a memory lapse.

For a moment “Uh-hmm,” was all he could manage. Finally he pulled himself together. “I’ll have to check with the front desk about reservations.” Even as he said the words he knew he’d do his utmost to arrange things
according to their wishes. “Okay, you’ve got the wedding date. How many people are you thinking of inviting?”

“Well, we’ve done a quick tally and think about sixty, though we might have to go higher once the parents get involved. A hundred max.”

Ward coughed. A hundred? In case he’d needed proof, here it was. Love really did do a number on the brain cells. “I know you guys haven’t been here in a while, what with your job, Brian, and Carrie’s slog through the galaxies, but that would be all the rooms on the ranch plus spillover. We’ll have to choose a couple of hotels and B&Bs nearby and book blocks of rooms quickly.”

“We know it’s a huge favor to ask. But Carrie and I have such wonderful memories of our summer stays there with you—”

“Of course. Listen, I’ll have to run this by the supreme powers, but lucky for you I remembered to get Mom a Valentine’s present.”

“As if you’d ever neglect to,” Carrie scoffed.

“Give Adele a big hug from both of us,” Brian said.

“Will do. So let me go scout out the situation and I’ll get back to you later today.”

“Thanks a million, bud. We wanted to be able to tell Carrie’s folks that we’ve got the wedding location fixed before they began pressuring us to hold it in Greenwich.”

“Greenwich is just not our style. At Silver Creek we’ll have a wedding to remember,” Carrie added.

“I’ll do my best for you, beautiful,” Ward promised.